


Easily Imitable

by Windian



Category: Tales of Graces
Genre: Father Figures, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Halloween, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 18:14:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16497707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windian/pseuds/Windian
Summary: Asbel is a little too loose with tales from his wild youth, and Sophie finds a new talent for pranks, much to all of Lhant's dismay. Even if she's more than a millenia old, it's never too late for an adolescent rebellion.





	Easily Imitable

 

Sophie had been somewhat... confused by the trick or treat phenomenon.

“Let's recap,” said Asbel, as Sophie took a seat opposite his desk. “So, you knock on a door. Then...”

A puzzled finger sprung to Sophie's chin. “Oh! You're supposed to shout, 'trick or treat!'”

“Right,” said Asbel.

“Then you get candy.”

“Exactly.”

“And if they don't, you give them a trick.”

“You're getting it now.”

“Like egging their house.”

“Yes, that's-- wait! No.” Asbel rubbed the fine bristles at the back of his neck in increasing exasperation. “You can't egg someone's house, Sophie.”

“But that's what you used to do,” Sophie said, wide-eyed, a picture of innocence.

“Yes, but, I wasn't a good role model, OK?”

Regaling Sophie with tales from his childhood was a popular topic at the dinner table, one Asbel was quickly regretting, due to recent events.

“Let me try to explain. It's called 'trick or treat' but you're not really supposed to do the 'trick' part. It'll make us pretty unpopular with the neighbours. You get it?”

Sophie stared at him. “So why's it not just called 'treat' then?”

 

Honestly, it wasn't just All Hallows Festival that was proving an issue.

“I did warn you, brother. You ought not to have told Sophie all those tales from our youth. You know well enough from Captain Malik how easily imitable Sophie is.”

Sat by the fire in the sitting room, Hubert spoke sternly, but was unable to hide his best, smug, 'I told you so' expression. It was infuriating.

“Yes, but,” Asbel splayed his hands out helplessly, “I had no idea that telling her about how I used to steal your clothes and hide them when we went swimming meant that _she would hide mine_.”

Hubert, if possible, looked smugger than ever.

“I told you your evil deeds would catch up with you one day, didn't I?”

“I never thought it'd happen like this, though,” Asbel muttered. He'd had to high-tail it half way across the manor with only a wash-cloth to preserve his modesty, and then he'd run into Lady Kerri.

“Don't worry. I'm your mother, I've seen it all before,” she later told him, while Frederic, pouring their tea, hiccuped from holding in giggles.

And that hadn't been the only incident.

Sophie had put a frog inside Lady Kerri's vanity dresser. A bucket of custard over his study door. Replaced the sugar pot with salt.

Frederic remarked with gusto how pleased he was to see the spirit of mischief, laid dormant for so many years, run wild once again across the house.

“Except, he wasn't so happy when Sophie crawled under the dining table and tied his shoelaces together, and Mum's fine Izollan china got smashed,” said Asbel.

Hubert mulled over this predicament, as he took a sip of his tea. “Well, sounds like quite a dilemma,” he said at last.

“That's it? You don't have any suggestions?”

“I seem to recall when I was I who ended up with a hairful of custard, you told me to “chill out, it's just a joke, bro.”

This then, was surely karma.

Hubert set his cup onto the saucer with a rattle. “Perhaps, Sophie is just too similar to her father. The apple never falls too far from the tree. Wait. Has she done the thing where you had me put an apple on my head and used me at target practice yet, or is that still to come?”

Asbel groaned. “Please don't mention that within earshot of her.”

“Well. There's nothing abnormal about a little rebellion. Every child goes through a rebellious phase.”

Asbel eyed him dubiously. “Even you?”

Hubert cleared his throat. “I'll have you know that I once dressed semi-formal at a black tie event. I didn't even wear cufflinks. Imagine.”

“Wow, Hubert. You absolute rebel.”

 

Hubert changed his tune, somewhat, when he woke to find the words DORK cut out of his sunscreen rangers pyjamas.

He came to his brother in near tears. “You must do something about this. Discipline her for this--- this act of vandalism,” he implored.

“Me?” said Asbel.

“This is entirely your fault, brother, and you need to deal with it. Sophie is your daughter.”

“Oh. Right.”

Discipline her? Sophie might legally be his daughter, but she was, first and foremost, his friend. Even if he'd been so caught up in his work recently that they hadn't spent much time together.

Yet Hubert looked ready to cry, his eyes red-ringed over his dumb, geeky pyjamas.

“Alright,” he said. “I'll uh... talk to her.”

 

So often, these days, when he and Sophie talked, it was with the weight of his father's desk between them.

It'd given him an odd sense of deja vu, at first, to find himself on the other side. Odd, how quickly you could get used to things.

“Sophie. I called you here to discuss your recent... behaviour.”

“OK,” said Sophie. She was looking in his direction, but Asbel had the vague feeling that she was gazing over his shoulder.

“I need to know. Why did you ruin Hubert's pyjamas?”

Sophie didn't reply. She played with the ribbon in her hair. It wasn't like her at all.

“You know how much he loved those things. Why would you do something like that?”

Once again, Sophie ignored him, and Asbel was sure he saw her mouth curl into something almost _sullen_.

“I heard from Mabel next door. You really upset her when you filled her shoes with worms. Do you have anything to say about that?”

Asbel was met by a brick wall. He felt his pulse increasing.

“Sophie.”

She muttered something.

“I didn't hear you.”

“I said it was funny, OK? I don't know,” Sophie said.

The insubordination in her voice threw him. Never once had he heard her speak in such a manner.

“You don't know?”

“That's what I said,” Sophie replied. She looked into the middle distance defiantly, crossing her arms.

“Then you give me no choice. Unless you can give me a proper answer, we're not going trick or treating tonight,” he said.

Sophie snapped from her impassivity, eyes flashing with hurt. “But you promised! That's not fair.”

“Then tell me why you did those things.”

Sophie, once again, fell silent.

“That's how things are going to be, then,” he said.

Sophie stood, her eyes shining with tears. “You're the worst, Asbel!”

With a flash of purple hair, she turned and was gone, the door slamming so hard behind her that Asbel jumped.

His stomach turned. He felt distinctly sick.

 

Asbel laid face down on the bed, in his clothes, in the dark.

There was a rap at the door.

“Come in,” he said, into his pillow. He made no motion to move.

The door creaked open, and a moment later, he felt the bed sink down beside him.

“What's wrong, Asbel?” asked Lady Kerri.

“What makes you think something is wrong?” The words were muffled into his pillow.

“Ever since you were a little boy, whenever you were sulking, I'd find you like this.”

“I'm not sulking,” Asbel mumbled.

“OK,” Lady Kerri agreed with a short laugh. She brushed a hand through his hair, and it came back to him: all the times his mother would come to cajole him from his bedroom, running her hands through his hair.

You know your father doesn’t really mean that, she'd say.

You know how much he loves you, she'd say.

“Mum,” Asbel said, turning his head to the side so he could speak coherently. “Am I a bad parent?”

“Wherever did you get that notion?”

“I tried to get Sophie to explain why she's been acting so oddly lately. But I think I upset her. She said... she said I was the worst.”

“Oh dear. If it makes you feel any better, you called your father far worse.”

It did not.

Asbel pushed himself up so the two of them were sat side by side.

“I was a bad kid, wasn't I?” he asked.

“Not bad. Just... challenging. No kids are perfect. No parents are, either.” She expelled a sad sigh. “It's easier to see your mistakes from a distance. I know... we were harder on you than we should have been. Your father-- he gave himself no room for mistakes. But you cannot expect the same of a child.”

For as long as Asbel could remember, Lady Kerri had been his father's advocate. It was strange, and soothing, to hear her talk like this in the dark: as if Aston had been a real person, with real flaws.

The older Asbel became, the more expectations Aston piled upon his shoulders. Gone were the days of sledging and swimming in the lake. Aston took the burden of the lordship seriously. Occasionally, there would be a bright glimmer of the father who picked Asbel up on his shoulders, or who laughed and joked about his old childhood adventures. In those moments, he was the man Asbel had always admired: strong and kind, a shield for all those he loved.

Yet, increasingly often, that man was gone, replaced by stern, solemn Lord Aston. And the only time Asbel could get him to pay any attention at all to him was when he berated him from the other side of a cold, impartial desk.

How Asbel hated that desk.

Not good enough.

Not strong enough.

Not enough.

He'd clap his hands over his ears, and Aston would lose his temper. A terrifying thrill, to get a rise out of his father. To get anything out of his father.

 

When was the last time he and Sophie did something together?

The same sick sinking feeling from the study settled into his stomach.

They say all men, eventually, become their fathers.

 

 

 

“Hello, Sophie. Do you mind if I join you?”

Sophie looked up from her gardening to see Hubert looming over her.

“You're not upset at me?” she asked.

“I've... calmed down,” he said. Sophie nodded, and returned to her work.

In his mother's most recent letter, she'd mentioned that Sophie was acting strangely. It seemed she was right. Something was not right here at all.

“What are you working on?” Hubert said, squatting down beside her.

“Making pumpkin plants. To decorate the house with for All Hallows Festival tonight.”

She'd already finished several; jack-o-lanterns hollowed out and filled with soil, in which Sophie had planted a vibrant display of autumn blooms.

“How ingenious,” said Hubert. “Presumably, when All Hallows is over, you could plant them in the garden, too. Have you shown them to Asbel yet?”

“I put one in his study yesterday, but I don't think he's noticed it yet.”

Oh.

“Well. He is rather unobservant, even at the best of times.”

Sophie said nothing, her back to Hubert as she worked. Hubert considered his words.

He really wasn't good at this kind of thing.

The words, unspoken, fell out of his head when he noticed the shake in Sophie's shoulders. Her nose smudged with soil, she sniffed, trying to hold tears back.

He didn't even need to think about it. Hubert reached out instinctively for her shoulder.

“Sophie...”

“I think he hates me.” Sophie squeezed out the words, a small and painful confession.

“Who hates you?”

“Asbel,” Sophie said, with a hearty sniff.

Hubert's head spun.

“That's--- that's completely improbable,” he said. “What on earth has made you think this?”

“He's always busy, and serious looking. We don't talk very much anymore. And we do, he doesn't listen.”

“Wait-- does this, perhaps, have something to do with your... pranks?”

“Asbel only ever seems happy when he talks about all the fun he had with you as a kid. So, I thought...”

Well, he was glad _Asbel_ had fun at least. Though he had to admit, though he hadn't seen the humour in at the time, they _had_ had some good times together.

He sighed, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

“I think I understand.”

“I don't. I just made things worse. Everyone in Lhant is mad at me for playing tricks on them, and Asbel will probably never talk to me again, and-- and--” Sophie sucked in huge breaths. “And you must hate me now too, Hubert, because I ruined your pyjamas. And it was mean, and I'm really sorry.”

“I admit I was... slightly miffed, but I would never hate you, Sophie. Not over pyjamas. We're friends.”

“Oh,” said Sophie. “So I shouldn't go away forever to live in the forest alone like a wild girl and eat mushrooms?”

“No, I shouldn't think-- _where are you even getting this stuff, Sophie_?”

It happened before he had a chance to react. Sophie threw her arms around Hubert's neck and hugged him tightly. Awkwardly at first, Hubert folded his arms around her, and patted her on the back. She clung to him like a sea cockle.

“I think I should say sorry to all the people I upset,” Sophie said, into his shoulder. “But I'm not sure how.”

Hubert considered. “I think I have a viable idea. Do you have many more of these pumpkins?”

 

Asbel hesitated, and then knocked on Sophie's door.

The sound of rustling and footsteps, and then Hubert answered the door.

“Yes?”

For some reason, he was wearing a fancy get-up with frock coat and a broach at his neck. Also, cat ears.

“Uhh. Nice look, Hubert.”

“Indeed. It was Sophie's request. She asked that I would enjoy the festivities tonight as a 'fancy cat.'” As straight as he spoke, his cheeks quickly mottled with colour. He looked Asbel's striped ensemble up and down.

“I see you are going as a zebra crossing tonight, brother.”

“I mean, I'm supposed to be an escaped convict, but, uh, sure.” He'd had little time to prepare, and had just thrown on something from his closet. It was, admittedly, a rather poor attempt.

“Hey, uh, is Sophie with you?”

Hubert replied by opening the door wider. Sophie, sat on the bed, looked up. She was dressed as a-- very cute-- witch. She looked at him shyly from underneath her hat.

“Hey,” he said. “Uh. Did you still wanna go trick or treating, Sophie?”

“We're actually just going Treating tonight, brother,” Hubert said.

“Oh yeah? How's that work?”

Sophie opened the wicker lid of her basket, to show Asbel her pumpkin plants.

“We're going to treat everyone in town. Because, I've already done enough tricks,” she said.

“Oh! That's--”

“You can come with, if you like,” said Sophie. She stopped peeking out from her hat and looked up at him, smile shy and tentative.

He met it with his own. “I'd like that.”

 

It took time to hand out all the treats in town. The people of Lhant received them in delight, for nobody harboured any real ill will against Sophie for her pranks.

“Honestly, it took me back to when Lord Asbel was a boy, and you couldn't sit down for fear of a whoopee cushion,” Mabel next door said, with a hearty laugh. “He had a good sense of fun.”

Asbel mumbled and thanked Mabel for being kind to Sophie.

The town was lit with paper jack-o-lanterns hanging from the trees, and in the square were stalls for candy floss and apple bobbing.

“Lord Asbel! Master Hubert! Fancy a bob?” Eunace from across from Lord Windegarde called.

“Uh, about that...”

Hubert nudged him. “I believe this calls for some community spirit, brother.”

“Okay, okay.”

Asbel stuck his head in the barrel to applause from his neighbours. When he bobbed back up, it was with an apple clenched between his teeth.

Honestly, it'd never occurred to him as a kid how much saliva these things must get on them.

Hubert and Sophie won apples, too, and when Hubert went to buy them all candyfloss, Asbel took the chance to speak with Sophie.

They stood by the bridge overlooking the river, sparkling in the light of the jack-o-lanterns.

“Hey, Sophie. I wanted to speak with you. I'm...sorry for being so distant lately. I know we haven't spent a lot of time together. I never wanted you to feel neglected.”

Sophie looked at him out from under her hat. Puzzling. “You don't need to say sorry, Asbel. It should be me. I was rude to you, and to the people in town.”

Asbel shook his head. “You were just copying me. Most of those pranks I did to get back at my father. He never listened to me, never took any interest in what I wanted. Never realised why I was acting the way I did.” He leant over the railing. Sighed. “And then I did the same to you. It's humbling, realising you've ended up repeating the same mistakes as your parents.”

Silently, Sophie slipped her hand into Asbel's. He still couldn't see her face from under her hat.

“I don't think you're so bad,” Sophie said.

Asbel pulled off Sophie's hat, and she gazed up at him in surprise.

“Let's go swimming this summer, OK? We can push Hubert in the lake, for old times.”

“Really?” she said.

“Yeah. It's a family tradition.”

Maybe, he had become too serious for his own good.

Sophie's mouth curved up into a mischievous grin. “OK.”

He planted a kiss, on the top of her head.

 

 


End file.
